Flip, Flop
by Lady Lex
Summary: A mysterious object causes Wilson & House to switch bodies.
1. Chapter 1

**FLIP, FLOP**

**Chapter One**

"I can't believe it!" House came storming into Wilson's office one morning as fast as his good and bad leg could carry him. "I can't believe they ripped me off! Damn that Ebay! And I waited until the last possible minute to bid to ensure I'd be the highest bidder. And look what they send me!" He tossed two tattered looking _Catwoman_ comic books and a large, shiny purple rock onto Wilson's desk. Wilson absently flipped through one of the comics.

"I didn't know you had a thing for cats." he commented.

"I don't," House said. "I have a thing for skin-tight vinyl and a whip. Plus, she has the biggest, roundest-"

"I take it this is not what you were expecting," Wilson quickly cut-off his friend from making a lewd comment.

"You don't think I'm stupid enough to bid on two torn comics and a rock, do you?" House demanded and Wilson only shrugged.

"What _did_ you bid on?" he inquired.

"The first three issues of _Catwoman,_ mint condition." House replied. "Two hundred dollars, gone!" he exclaimed, falling into the chair in front of Wilson's desk. "What am I supposed to do with two ripped comics and a useless rock?"

"You know you shouldn't trust those places, House," Wilson said, putting down the comic.

"It's Ebay!" House protested.

"Doesn't matter," Wilson shook his head and picked up the rock to look at it. "You send somebody a pile of money, you have no way of knowing if you'll get what you ordered _or_ if you'll get anything at all." Wilson tossed the rock in the air and caught it. He did this several times while House sat there, fuming. Had he been a cartoon, smoke would have been coming out of his ears.

House dry-swallowed two Vicodin as Wilson, once again, studied the rock. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a thin line going all the way around it. He twisted it and out popped another, heavier stone and a piece of paper. It piqued House's curiosity.

"What the hell?" He was bewildered as he looked at the rock and Wilson read the note:

"_Misuse of this stone could result in a terrible curse."_

"Hah!" House scoffed. "Like I'm not cursed enough already!"

"_Be careful what you wish for." _Wilson finished.

"I suppose if I rub this, a genie will pop out?" House said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He tossed the rock back to Wilson. "Here, you first. Make a wish. Let's see if my two hundred dollars _did_ pay off."

Wilson didn't believe a word of what the note said and neither did House, but at least it would be funny.

Wilson rubbed the rock and made a wish.

"I wish for the perfect woman." he said, sighing dreamily.

House rolled his eyes.

"Leave it to you to wish for the impossible," he said. "Give me that thing."

Wilson threw it over to House. He rubbed it dramatically and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I wish for a never ending supply of Vicodin."

Wilson laughed. Only House would wish for that.

"House, as long as I'm around to write your prescriptions, you'll never run out." Wilson pointed out.

House shrugged. "I guess I got my wish then." He chuckled. "You want to keep the rock?" he offered.

"What would I want a rock for?" Wilson asked. "Why don't you keep it?"

House handed it to Wilson.

"Just throw it out." House said.

The minute they both had their fingers on the rock, there was a huge blast of light and they were both knocked to the floor, unconscious. The rock was blasted from their hands and shattered into a million pieces.

Wilson wasn't sure how long he'd been laying there before he finally woke up. His head hurt, so he figured he must have hit it. He didn't see House anywhere and realized that he was probably on the floor, on the other side of the desk. He had no idea what had just happened. But he knew it had something to do with that rock.

"House?" Wilson called out to his friend and then suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth. _That wasn't his voice_! His hand felt a lot bigger, too. He looked at it. Darker, rough and slightly calloused, with the imprint of something on it. _That wasn't his hand_! His hands were always soft, smooth, with neatly trimmed nails. Wilson propped himself up on what he thought were his elbows, concerned. He still felt like himself. Why did he not sound like himself and what happened to his hands? He looked around and saw House's cane laying beside him. Then he looked down and saw House's clothes on him. Realization had almost hit him. Then, a sharp pain shot through his right leg and he winced in pain.

_Oh God_, he thought. _I'm House!_

This was impossible. He had to be dreaming. Or he was still unconscious. There was no such thing as body transfer. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to clear his head. Then he heard the sound of his own voice, only it was coming from the other side of the desk.

"Wilson, what the hell just-" House clapped his hand over his mouth, shocked at the sound that came out. He tried to clear his throat, but even _that _didn't sound like him.

They both lay there, on opposite sides of the desk, silent, too scared to say anything. They could only hear each other breathing. It was quick and worried. Wilson's right leg was killing him. He tried to ignore it, but it wasn't easy. Is this what House had to deal with everyday? Because it was a lot worse than Wilson had figured.

He couldn't lay there all day. He was expecting patients. He stood up, bracing himself on the edge of his desk. House heard Wilson get up and he rose to his feet as well. They turned to face each other and their mouths fell open in horror. They saw themselves! It was like looking in a mirror.

"What the hell am I doing over there?" House demanded in Wilson's voice. Again, he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"My God," Wilson whispered, practically cringing at the deep voice that came from his lips. "House… you're _me_. I'm… I'm _you_."

"I can see that, Wilson!" House snapped. Wilson never heard his own voice so angry before. "Quick, where's that rock? We have to touch it again."

Wilson pointed to a pile of dust on the floor, where the rock had fell and shattered.

"I think _that _may have been our rock, House," he said. House was having a hard time hearing his own voice coming from somewhere else.

On Wilson's desk, the shell that had contained the rock had also disintegrated into a pile of dust. All that was left was the note with the warning on it. House grabbed it and put it in the pocket of the lab coat he was wearing, the one Wilson always wore.

"We have to get Cuddy." House declared.

* * *

House and Wilson had decided to just page Cuddy, rather than walk to her office in their new bodies. Plus, Wilson's leg was killing him; he didn't feel like moving at all. His face was crunched up in pain as they waited for Cuddy. 

"Are you going to sit there cringing or are you going to take some Vicodin?" House asked Wilson, his lips curling into a slight smirk.

"Forget it!" Wilson retorted. "I am _not_ supporting your drug habit. Besides, I don't plan on living the rest of my life in _your_ body. I'll deal with the pain."

"Fine, go ahead and suffer," House shrugged. "You just wait a few days until it gets to be unbearable. Then the drugs will become your best friend."

The pain in his leg was _already_ unbearable. But Wilson was determined _not _to take Vicodin. As long as he was in House's body, he was not about to further the damage that had already been done. But the pain…

House was busy looking at his new hands, looking down his shirt at his new chest, moving his new legs and running his fingers through thick, wavy hair. Wilson reached into his pocket, where he knew House kept his pills and quickly took one without House noticing. The pain had won over his determination.

_But it's only one, _thought Wilson. He was certain one would be enough.

Finally, Cuddy entered the office.

"Took you long enough!" House spat and Cuddy looked shocked because to her, it was Wilson who had said it.

"I didn't realize you were so impatient, Dr. Wilson." she said, crossing her arms.

"Lisa, we need your help," Wilson piped up and again, she looked shocked. House never called her by her first name.

"What's going on here?" Cuddy demanded. She knew something was up.

"We switched bodies!" Wilson blurted out.

For a moment, Lisa Cuddy didn't say anything. She wrinkled her brow, skeptically.

"Very funny, House," she said to Wilson. "If you made me come all the way up here for _this, _I see some extra clinic hours in your futures. _Both_ of you!" she added, firmly. "Frankly, I'm surprised," She looked at House. "Something like this coming from _you_, Dr. Wilson?"

"_He's_ Dr. Wilson," said House, pointing at Wilson who was rubbing his right leg again.

"That's enough!" Cuddy raised her voice with a note of absolute warning. "I don't have time for your games. I'm going back to my office." She started to leave.

"Lisa, _wait_!" Wilson called to her and limped towards the door.

"And stop calling me Lisa!" she said. "It gives me the creeps, House. You only use my first name when you're trying to annoy me and right now, I am beyond annoyed."

Both House and Wilson sighed. This was impossible and frustrating. Who would ever believe such an outrageous story anyway?

"Dr, Cuddy, please," Wilson begged, this time not daring to call her Lisa. "_I'm_ Wilson. I swear to you with all my being." House rolled his eyes. Cuddy regarded Wilson for a moment. He looked like House, he sounded like House… but not completely. There was a sincerity in his voice that was so un-House-like, she almost wanted to believe them. But she sill wasn't convinced. House was also a pretty damn good actor.

"Alright, prove to me that you're not House," she challenged and the two of them gawked at her as though she had asked the impossible. Wilson had no idea what he could say or do to prove that it was, in fact him in House's body. House, on the other hand, had an idea.

"Let's see now," House mused, scratching his chin and noticing that Wilson had shaved quite thoroughly because there wasn't a bit of stubble to be found. "You know, Cuddy, for starters, it wasn't _me_ who took you on a date to the museum."

"It wasn't a date!" Wilson and Cuddy shouted at the same time. They looked at one another in surprise and Cuddy saw a puppy-dog eyes look on House's face she had never seen before. But now she knew it was Wilson. House just smiled.

"My God…" she muttered.

"_Now_ do you believe us?" House demanded.

Cuddy nodded, very slowly.

"Oh my God, James, how's your leg?" she suddenly asked. House was furious.

"What the hell is this?" he exclaimed. "When it's Jimmy, it's a big deal? When it's Greg House, nobody gives a damn! This is bull shit!"

"House, calm down," Cuddy said. "It's just that you're already used to it. James never had to deal with something like this before."

Wilson did not feel right about accepting sympathy from Cuddy, especially since she had never expressed it for House.

"It's fine, Lisa." Wilson said quickly. "I'll be fine."

Cuddy wasn't convinced, but she didn't press him any further. Plus, she couldn't bare to see the furious look House had managed to put on his new face.

"Don't scowl like that, please," she said to House. "Don't forget whose face that is. It's not very becoming at all."

House relaxed his new features, reluctantly.

"How exactly did this happen?" Cuddy asked. "I mean this is something out of a science fiction movie. It's like _Freaky Friday _or something."

"More like Moronic Monday." House quipped.

Wilson sighed. He was in no mood for House's dry humor. Especially coming from what used to be his mouth.

"There was this rock," Wilson explained. "House got it from some guy on Ebay, selling comics. When we both touched it at the same time, we switched bodies."

"You bought a rock from somebody on Ebay?" She turned around and looked at House. "Are you insane? For God's sake, House, why can't you just do like everyone else and bid on an Xbox or something?"

"I didn't bid on a rock, Cuddy, I bid on some comics," House informed her, his scowl resurfacing. "And in case you were wondering, I didn't get those, either. They just sent me that stupid rock." He handed her the note that had come with it. She read it and handed it back.

"That doesn't explain much." Cuddy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. "Did you try touching the rock again, together?" she suggested.

Wilson pointed to the small pile of ashes on the office floor.

"That's what's left of the rock," he told her.

She let out a long, tired breath.

"I don't know what to do, then," she said. "First of all, we can't tell anyone. You'll just have to continue like everything is normal."

"Easy for _you_ to say," said House, dryly. "You're not the one who has to pretend to be Saint Jimmy, the boy-wonder oncologist."

"I don't see what you're complaining about," Wilson shot back. "I'm the one who has to deal with those three ducklings of yours."

_The team! _If anyone would be able to tell something was up, it would definitely be Chase, Cameron and Foreman. They knew House and his mannerisms better than anyone. As much as he hated to admit it, House knew they were sharp.

"Well, I'll tell them," Cuddy decided. "They'd figure it out eventually, anyway, as unreal as it is." She looked sympathetically at her switched colleagues. The sarcastic look did not suit Wilson's face, just as the genuinely sad look didn't suit House's face. "In the meantime, maybe you can search Ebay or anywhere else on the Internet to see if you can buy a rock that looks just like the one that did this to you. Then maybe you can switch back the same way."

"Good idea," Wilson said and Cuddy couldn't help acting surprised again. Even though it was Wilson, it still sounded like House and he had never, ever given her credit for an idea before. Mostly, he opposed her. She enjoyed the moment, briefly.

"I'll reschedule my appointments," said Wilson, then looked at House. "Or rather, I'll get you to ask Marg to do it. She'll think you're playing a prank if I do it, looking like this." He chuckled.

House heaved a huge sigh, grabbed Wilson's appointment book and walked out the door to talk to Marg, the receptionist. It took him a moment to get used to Wilson's legs, but not too long. It felt great to have use of two legs. And two _young _legs, at that!

When House was gone, Cuddy turned to Wilson.

"Seriously, how is your leg, James?" she inquired.

"It's _killing_ me!" Wilson confessed. "I don't know what to do. I… I did take _one _Vicodin." he admitted, sheepishly.

Cuddy's pretty eyes grew very wide.

"No, James! No Vicodin!" she scolded him. "Give me the bottle." Wilson surrendered the pills. "You _know _it's highly addictive. I really can't have two doctors addicted to it. I'll get you something else for your - er - House's leg." she promised. "Be careful." She left the room and Wilson wondered if there was any medication that Cuddy could get that would be strong enough to ease that horrible pain. House seemed to think that the only solution was Vicodin. Wilson didn't want to become dependant on that. Once they found an identical rock, it would only be a matter of days before they would be back in their own bodies again and Wilson wouldn't have to worry about a sore leg anymore.

_**To be continued….**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait… writer's block. I knew what I wanted to write, but couldn't seem to get it out on paper in the proper way. Plus, I kinda got obsessed with Dexter and watched the whole first season. It's hard to go from a sympathetic serial killer to Dr. Feelbad, believe it or not! LOL! Hope you enjoy this chapter, hope it was worth the wait. On to the fic.._

* * *

**FLIP, FLOP**

**Chapter Two**

The two men spent the remainder of the morning searching the internet for rocks with curses that looked identical to the one that had switched them. House was on his main computer, while Wilson used a laptop. They were in House's office. They had somehow made it there from the Oncology Department. House had done fine on his new and perfect legs, but Wilson was awkward and clumsy with the cane, not at all used to having only one working leg. He felt a twinge of sympathy for House - he had already lived with that for several years. He still felt more sorry for himself though, because through the switch, House had received the better part of the deal.

Looking for stones and rocks on the internet sounded easy, but House and Wilson were having difficulties with their keyboards. House was used to his normally large hands and long fingers, so with Wilson's much smaller hands, he kept missing keys. And Wilson, now with House's large hands , kept hitting keys twice. It was very frustrating, feeling like they no longer had control of their bodies. But they eventually got the hang of it.

House actually liked Wilson's hands. He'd never noticed them before, but now that they were his, he studied them. Unlike the usual rough, broken-in, nail-bitten hands he was used to, Wilson's were soft, smoothwith nails obviously manicured by a professional.

_Such a girl_, thought House, smirking to himself. House already knew that Wilson used a blow-dryer every morning, along with several hair products and had a ridiculously long and ritual face-washing routine. Now he could add manicures to his friend's grooming regimen. He decided right then and there that he wasn't going to adopt any of Wilson's strange habits. He would carry-on as though he were still himself - let his hair air-dry, not use any product, wash his face with soap and water and he could trim his own nails if he had to. He wasn't about to fork-out money to an esthetician just so Wilson's hands would look pretty. Right now, he only wanted to fork-out money to people on Ebay selling rocks.

But they were having no luck. Wilson was tired from looking at rocks and his eyes were getting sore from staring at the computer screen. Plus, all the rocks were starting to look the same now and he practically forgot what the original looked like.

It wasn't long before they both needed to use the washroom, not even realizing what this everyday bodily function would entail, being that they were switched. They had practically forgotten, until they caught their reflections in the restroom mirror. They looked at one another, their faces filled with worry over the notion of what they had to do. The fact that they would be touching - more so _holding_ - the most intimate part of the other's anatomy, completely creeped them out.

"How exactly are we supposed to do this?" Wilson finally broke the thick silence that had settled in the restroom.

House looked exasperated.

"You unzip, whip it out, go, give it a shake, flush, tuck it back in and zip up." he explained, smirking.

"That's not what I meant," said Wilson, through clenched teeth. He didn't know how his friend could suddenly make so light of the disturbing situation at hand.

"Well, I'm not going to stand here all day," said House, moving toward the urinal and positioning himself. "I gotta go."

Wilson heard the unzipping of his pants, then the trickling sound of liquid. He bit back the urge to gag. He felt sick at the fact that his best friend was standing there, nonchalant as could be, touching what once belonged to him. There was something absolutely grotesque about the whole thing.

House flushed then washed his hands at the sink. Wilson was still standing there, stiffly, his fists clenched at his sides. House looked at him, his hands on his hips.

"You gonna stand there with your thumb up your butt or are you gonna do what you need to?" House demanded, coolly.

"Thumb up my butt sounds better." said Wilson.

House moved closer to him.

"Look, _what _is the problem, Wilson?" he emphasized. "I did it and I'm fine. Yea, it was weird, but-"

"It's creepy okay?" Wilson snapped. "It's just plain creepy. I can't do it." He said it so stubbornly, that House almost thought he was serious. Surely Wilson knew that he couldn't resist the urge forever.

"How could you do it?" Wilson suddenly asked and House was certain he heard a suppressed sob. "How could you touch me like that?"

House rolled his eyes. Wilson was always overanalyzing the simplest things. Sometimes House wondered why his friend wasn't suicidal with the way he deep- thought everything.

"I didn't touch you," House told him, calmly. "Don't be irrational."

"Yes you did," said Wilson in a small voice. "And I'm not being irrational."

"Did you feel it?" House challenged.

Wilson looked at House, quizzically. "That's not -"

"Wilson, I'm not going to hold it for you," House said, with a note of warning in his voice. "Just go already. When I get my body back, I expect it to be in the same condition I left it in." With that, he left the restroom without so much as a glance back at Wilson, who was still standing in the middle of the room, now really needing to go. He knew House was right. He couldn't very well hold it forever and even if he tried, he could cause kidney damage or poison the body that wasn't even his. And who knew how long they'd be stuck like this?

Wilson stood in front of the urinal and forced himself not to look down. But he couldn't help but notice just by touch, that House was a fair bit bigger than him. Wilson had always thought that he was well-endowed, but in comparison to House, he was more on the average side. Wilson cringed and silently scolded himself for letting thoughts like that enter his mind. He washed up and limped back to House's office, almost tripping several times on his way there. This earned him several strange looks from the doctors and nurses. Gregory House wasn't usually so clumsy with his cane.

* * *

By the time Cuddy came by to check up on her switched employees again, House had found three identical rocks and ordered them. Unfortunately, it would be a few weeks before they would arrive, being that they were coming straight from Egypt and South America.

"Are you sure about those?" Cuddy asked, when House told her the good news, that he had not found one identical rock, but three. "Did it say the rocks were cursed?"

"Of course not," House answered. "People trying to sell rocks are not going to add a warning about a possible curse. "Besides," he added, "two of them are apparently from an ancient pyramid or tomb in Central Egypt. That alone should clue some people in."

"I hope you're right, House." she said. Even she was hopeful. "In the meantime, I've told the team. They're looking into it."

"I don't think there is any medical reason or solution to what's happened to us," said Wilson. "It's like you said, Lisa. This is something out of a science fiction movie."

"There's nothing _scientific _about it," said House as he and Cuddy nodded in agreement with Wilson. "It's weird, that's what it is. They won't be able to do a thing."

"They're just worried about you two, that's all," said Cuddy and she felt the same way, the look in her eyes told them that. "They feel obligated to do anything they can. Even if there's nothing they can do, they're still going to try."

House started tossing his ball against the wall and catching it. The only thing Wilson could think about was the fact that it would only be a matter of time before the team would come around to see them. They had to be bursting with curiosity by now.

"I hate to tell you this, but their brown nosing isn't going to help us." House declared, with no expression.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Oh, I almost forgot," She reached into her dress coat pocket and plopped a box of Tylenol 3 in front of Wilson. "For your leg." She smiled.

Wilson sighed in relief. It was perfect timing because the Vicodin was wearing off and the pain was starting again. He was beginning to get a better understanding of what his friend had to deal with _every _day. It hadn't even _been _a full day for Wilson yet.

When Cuddy left, House leaned over and said to Wilson, "That'll _never_ work."

"Just because it's not your drug of choice doesn't mean it won't work or be as effective," Wilson told him, taking one of the pills with a glass of water that was next to him.

"Wait a little while," said House. "You'll see."

Wilson did not want to believe that the only thing that would work for the infarction was Vicodin. Even if the Tylenol didn't completely take away all the pain, at least it would make it more manageable. 

"Well, what do you say we head down to the cafeteria and grab some lunch?" House suggested, reaching into his back pocketand pulling out Wilson's wallet. "Looks like I'm buying this time!"

Wilson laughed and followed House out of the office and to the hospital cafeteria. He had a hard time keeping up, but he was starting to get used to the cane. With perfectly working legs, House couldn't help but walk quickly and way ahead of Wilson.

"House, slow down," Wilson pleaded. "We usually walk into the cafeteria together."

"_You _should speed up," House retorted and Wilson thought that was rather cruel of him to say. He always walked next to House, matching his pace. But he should've known not to expect House to show him the same courtesy.

Once they were in the food line, Wilson looked at all the food choices and none of it looked very appetizing. Ever since the whole ordeal, he had been feeling queasy. And the incident in the men's restroom had only made things worse. He finally decided on a bowl of jello minus the whipped cream topping, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a few soda crackers. House also had soup, but instead of jello, chose a large piece of chocolate pinwheel cake. Wilson guessed that House probably wasn't feeling all that great either, but not bad enough that he couldn't have a piece of cake.

"I hate green jello," House told Wilson. "Otherwise I would have had some, too."

Once they were seated, they began to eat their soup. But after the first spoonful, Wilson wrinkled his nose in disgust. It didn't taste the way it usually did. There was something strange about it. He crushed his crackers into it and tried it that way. It still tasted strange. He looked up and noticed House pushing his bowl of soup away.

"Does the soup taste funny to you, too?" Wilson asked.

"Yes," replied House. "Ever since they hired that new cook, this place has been going for a shit. I know it's hospital food, but _come on_! I wouldn't feed this to a garbage disposal."

Wilson had to agree. Pushing his soup away as well, he moved onto the jello as House poked his fork into his pinwheel cake and took a bite. A moment later, they were spitting their dessert into their napkins.

"No wonder you hate green jello!" Wilson exclaimed. "That's the nastiest thing I've ever tasted. I'd rather go back to the soup. House?"

House was scratching his chin, deep in thought. Wilson wondered why he suddenly hated green jello. It had never bothered him before.

"I have a theory," said House, lowering his voice. "Let's trade." Wilson handed House his jello, while House handed over his cake. "Go ahead, try it."

Wilson didn't think his nausea would take very kindly to cake and he hated pinwheel cake on top of that, but he took a bite anyway. To his surprise, it was delicious!

"Good, isn't it?" House said, with an all-knowing grin.

"Yes, but I hate this stuff!" Wilson protested, even though he continued to eat it while House finished off the jello.

"And I hate green jello," House added. "But let's not forget our basic problem, Wilson."

_Of course, _thought Wilson. Because they were switched, everything tasted differently. It made sense.

"Then I guess the soup is fine," Wilson decided, beginning to eat it again. "I'm just tasting it the way you normally would."

House nodded and also started on his soup again. Gradually, they got used to the different tastes that tingled their new taste buds. Wilson wondered if he'd ever eat green jello again.

* * *

After lunch, House and Wilson decided to see if the team had come up with any interesting theories. They each got a coffee to go from the cafeteria and because they both took their coffee the same way, there wasn't much of a taste difference. The cafeteria's coffee tasted like crap, anyway.

When they stepped into the familiar Diagnostics Room, Cameron, Chase and Foreman were all there, flipping through files and talking about the body swap issue. House cleared his throat loudly to announce their presence. Nobody said anything, they just sat there, their mouths hanging open.

"What is this, a room full of codfish?" House quipped and everyone's jaw dropped even more. Even though they knew what had happened, they could barely grasp the concept of Dr. Wilson's voice saying such a House-like comment.

"It's… it's true then," said Cameron, unable to say much of anything else.

"Yes, it's true." Wilson nodded as he took a seat at the table, taking the pressure off of the cane and leg. They all stared at Wilson as if they had never seen him before. Or rather, in this case, had never seen House before.

"What's is like?" Cameron inquired carefully. "to be someone else?" She looked over at Chase and Foreman, suddenly wondering what it would be like to be one of them.

"Well, it's-"

"It's amazing!" House exclaimed, cutting Wilson off. "Look at these perfect, working legs!" He hopped around, stood on one foot and did some jumping jacks. Then he ran a hand through the thick hair now on his head. "And look at this great head of hair. I haven't had this much hair in a dog's age! I'm Jimmy Wilson, a fricken' Spring Chicken!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying me so much." Wilson spat at him, bitterly.

The others were amused at House's antics. They seemed to be ignoring Wilson, which was typical. Especially for Chase who was quite possibly the worst brown noser Wilson had ever met. He was slightly annoyed that nobody seemed to care that he was House - bad leg and all.

Meanwhile, House was enjoying being the center of attention. He grabbed Cameron's compact mirror that was laying on the table and observed his new face in it. He brushed his fingers across the thick brows that he had always teased Wilson about.

"I think I ought to do something about these brows, though." said House, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "I mean -"

"_Leave. The brows. Alone_." Wilson warned, making House's voice sound darker than usual.

"Lighten-up, Wilson," said House. "There are some advantages to this, you know."

"For you, maybe," Wilson responded. "I'm the one who got the shitty part of the deal. What possible advantage could there be to becoming _you_?" Wilson knew it sounded cold and cruel, but House didn't seem to care. At least, not on the outside. Even if he didn't show it, Wilson hoped he _had_ hurt House's feelings in some way, because this whole switch just wasn't fair.

"So… you completely switched?" Foreman finally said something. "I mean, how much are you like each other?"

"In every way, down to the last toenail," House told him. "The only things that remain mine are my thoughts and winning personality. Other than that, I'm Jimmy Wilson, the boy-wonder oncologist. The panty-peeler. The-"

"We get it, House." Foreman said. Nobody had ever seen House in this good a mood before. Wilson scowled even harder.

"And I get to be the dysfunctional Greg House," Wilson shouted, angrily. He wasn't about to shower House with compliments, either.

"Oh, Dr. Wilson, your leg!" Cameron suddenly exclaimed , putting a hand over her mouth in shock . All eyes were now on Wilson.

_Attention at last, _thought Wilson, throwing a triumphant look at House, who now looked annoyed that he was no longer the main event.

"How are you feeling?" Cameron asked. "Does it hurt?"

Wilson decided that he was going to milk this for all it was worth, since he was feeling incredibly sorry for himself. He rubbed his right leg and winced for effect, even though it was fine at the moment.

"You're not taking… Vicodin, are you?" Chase questioned, looking worried.

"No, Cuddy set me up with… well, with something else." Wilson answered, deciding not to elaborate. They didn't need to know that it was Tylenol _and_ that it was actually working. Even though Wilson disliked House at the moment, he didn't see any benefit in him being harassed in the future about kicking the Vicodin because "_Dr. Wilson said the Tylenol worked_".

"It really hurts," said Wilson, pouting and giving them puppy-dog eyes, wondering how it looked on House's face.

"Dr. Wilson, I am so sorry," Cameron said, sympathetically, putting her hand gently on his arm.

"Yea, sucks to be you." Chase added.

"You mean sucks to be House." Foreman corrected, giving Wilson a small smile. Wilson smiled back, appreciatively. A glance over at House revealed to Wilson a horrible, angry expression, one that Wilson did not know his face could wear.

"For God's sake, it hasn't even been _a day_!" House yelled at them. "I've been in pain for _years_ and I don't recall any of you giving a rat's ass!" His voice was filled with contempt, another sound so unlike Wilson. "Now that it's Wilson, it's like the bloody apocalypse!"

"You should have a little more compassion!" Cameron retorted. "Dr. Wilson is not used to this."

"We _do_ care about you, House." Chase told him, sincerely.

House did not look convinced. They all knew that the more they showed that they cared about House, the more he'd push them away. Wilson, on the other hand, lapped it up. He liked how Cameron had a hand on his arm and was looking at him with such genuine concern in her eyes. He couldn't help feeling self-righteous at the fact that she was looking at him the same way she used to look at House. But then, she was _still_ technically looking at House, only with Wilson inside. Was it really all that different, then?

House was glaring at Cameron, obviously jealous at the attention she was giving Wilson; attention that should've belonged to him a long time ago.

"That's it, I've _had_ it with this!" House threw up his arms in defeat. "Did you find anything, _anything at all _that can undo this? Because there is no way I'm waiting three weeks for those stupid rocks. I want out… _now_!"

"I thought you liked being me." Wilson remarked.

"Wilson, just shut up for once, alright?" House snapped. "It's not about me, it's about you and your damn whining. I can't take it anymore. You're not the first person in the world to have a bum leg, you know!" He turned to Chase and Foreman. "What have you found out?" he demanded, impatiently.

Even though they knew it was House, Chase and Foreman still found it strange to hear the commanding and impatient tone of Wilson's normally mellow and likable voice. It was not suitable at all.

"Well, you may not _have_ to wait for the rocks," Chase said. "It's all up to you, according to our findings."

Wilson and House both leaned forward in anticipation. Could they switch back at any time?

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

_A/N: I'll try not to make you wait quite so long for the next chapter. No promises, though. What did you think of the whole bathroom scene? Too much? I kinda thought it was funny, but I'm not so sure. I've read it so many times, I start to not like it anymore. What do you think?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Flip, Flop**

**Chapter Three**

**  
**"They're only theories," said Chase, rather doubtfully as he looked over the information he'd collected.

"But they're worth a shot." Foreman added, also looking over the information_ he_ had collected. Cameron also had a file of papers on what she had found out.

Both House and Wilson had a horrible, sinking feeling that any of the possible theories would somehow sound next to impossible. They waited for each member of the team to read aloud their findings with baited breath. Cameron left Wilson's side and went first.

"The obvious cure could be as simple as a kiss," said Cameron, raising her eyebrows and peering carefully over her file folder. There was a long pause before anyone said anything.

"Well then, get on with it!" House blurted, approaching Cameron for a kiss he thought would fix this.

Cameron took a few steps back.

"No, House, not from me," she said, shaking her head. "It says the two switched parties have to kiss _one another_."

Silence thicker than fog filled the room. House and Wilson looked at one another, but didn't make a move.

"That is _ridiculous_!" Wilson exclaimed, standing up and leaning on his cane. "You don't actually expect us to…"

Without warning, House grabbed Wilson's face with both hands and planted a huge, wet kiss right on his friend's lips. Then he pushed Wilson back into the chair. Everyone stood there in total surprise. Wilson could only blink in confusion, then finally rubbed a fist across his lips and scowled at House.

"Nope, that didn't work." House declared, simply.

Wilson suddenly made a pitiful spitting sound.

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again!" he shouted at House.

House ignored Wilson and turned to Chase.

"What have you got for us?" he asked and Wilson prayed that it didn't involve kissing or some sort of kinky sex.

"Well, there's a few things here," Chase said. "You could go see a clairvoyant or a psychic."

"What could they do?" asked Wilson.

"They could perform Aurasomatherapy, which is a holistic soul therapy in which the vibrational powers of color, crystals and natural aromas combine with light in order to harmonise the body, mind and spirit." Chase explained. "Clairvoyants are supposed to be able to see people's auras. It may give them a clue as to why you switched and _how_ to switch you back." he declared, sounding as though he actually believed all this. To House and Wilson, it sounded like a lot of nonsense.

"There's no scientific proof that any of that crap even works." said Wilson, negatively.

"There's no scientific reason for your switch, either, Dr. Wilson," Cameron pointed out. "If I were you, I'd be willing to try anything."

House rolled his eyes.

"I know _you_ would." he said and Cameron cocked her head and frowned at him. "So, fine. We'll consider the psychos."

"Psychics!" Chase hastily corrected his boss.

"Whatever." House waved a hand in the air.

"What else?" Wilson pressed Chase for more solutions.

"You could just change back spontaneously," Chase continued, leafing through his papers. "Which means you may want to stick together. It can't happen that way if you are in separate places."

This sounded like good news to House and Wilson. And much simpler, too.

"Are you saying that we could just be sitting around somewhere together and we'd suddenly switch back?" Wilson asked in amazement.

"Well, not exactly," Chase replied. "There _is_ another factor to be considered."

"Which is?" House demanded.

"I'm not exactly sure how to explain it," said Chase, looking over at Cameron for help. She took the paper from Chase's hand, read over the notes quickly, then looked at House and Wilson.

"You need to find common ground," she explained. "And something in yourselves that is still truly you."

"We still have our thoughts," said Wilson. "I'm still me. I mean, I still _feel_ like myself inside."

"There's more," said Cameron. "Once you find that, you have to find a connection. Between the two of you. Something that you two share alone. Not something you share with everyone else in your life. Just something only yours."

"We're best friends," House pointed out. "Is that not obvious? Aren't we connected that way?"

"It's deeper than that, House," Cameron told him, gently. "Why are you best friends? What do you have in common? What connected you?"

House and Wilson thought for a long time. They really didn't know. And they really had nothing in common. At least nothing they could think of. They were practically complete opposites. House was cold, miserable and sarcastic. Wilson was kind, happy-go-lucky and charming. The only similarity was that they were both doctors at the same hospital.

"Well?" Chase broke the silence.

"Well what?" House shot back.

"Can't you think of anything?" Chase asked.

House started to pace, hands clasped behind his back.

"Look, I don't know, okay?" he said. "I don't know _how_ or _why_ we became friends. It just sort of… happened."

Wilson nodded in agreement.

"Yea, we just… tolerate each other, really," he declared. House and Wilson exchanged a sad smile. They knew that wasn't completely true. It wasn't just about tolerance. They truly cared for one another. But what was the deeper meaning in their friendship? What was it they had that nobody else had?

"You just need time to think about it," Cameron assured them, kindly. "What else have you got? You'll figure it out." She gave them an encouraging smile.

"If you're so smart, why don't you just tell us?" House snapped.

"How am I supposed to know?" Cameron responded, hands on her hips. "Half the hospital has been trying to figure that out for years. They don't understand _how_ you and Dr. Wilson could possibly be friends."

"Everyone has their theories about that, though," Foreman added.

"Oh yea?" Wilson challenged. "Like what? What do they think?"

"That you're a couple…"

"Yea, a couple of freaks in the wrong body!" House exclaimed.

"Or that you are at least sleeping together." Chase finished.

"That's really sick." Wilson said, making a face. "Why does everything boil down to someone being a homosexual?"

"Well, look at it this way," said Foreman. "If that _were_ the case, at least it would be easy to see what your connection could be." He laughed.

House and Wilson were not amused. They didn't want to be looked at as gay.

"We don't think you're a couple, of course." Chase told them, sincerely. "Nor that you're sleeping together."

_Kiss-ass,_ thought Wilson, now bitter towards the entire hospital for having such morbid thoughts about him and House.

House stopped pacing and took a sip of his coffee.

"Alright, so I guess we have something to think about then," He looked at Foreman. "What have you got for us, Milton Fine?"

Foreman rolled his eyes at House's new nickname for him.

"Not a whole lot," he said, sighing. "Well, nothing as favorable as what Chase and Cameron have suggested. From my point of view, you're looking at head or brain transplants or electroshock treatment."

Foreman was right. Neither of those sounded great, plus there was no record of a successful brain transplant.

"Are you suggesting that we cut off our heads?" demanded House.

"Of course not," Foreman replied. "Don't be an ass, House. It would never work. Besides, you would just have Wilson's head on your body and vice versa. The whole point is to get you _completely_ back to normal." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, in 1973, actually, a doctor did it with two monkeys."

"What, switched their heads?" asked Wilson.

"Yes," Foreman nodded. "And it worked, too. The animal could still smell, taste, see, and hear. However, it only lived for eight days after that."

The room fell silent again as everyone thought about brain transplants and monkeys with switched heads.

"Tell me about the electroshock treatment." House ordered.

"It's too dangerous!" Wilson protested, but his friend ignored him.

"Tell me." House persisted.

"Dr. Wilson's right, House, it's too dangerous," said Foreman.

"What, and decapitating us isn't?" House quipped, even though he knew that would never happen. "How does it work? Spit it out, Foreman. Let's have it."

Foreman sighed.

"We wire you up together; link your brain waves and shock you at the exact same time," he explained. "You'll either switch brains or get complete and total amnesia. Then we lose you both. Or it'll be a partial switch. In other words, you may find yourselves having thoughts that are not your own."

Wilson noticed House considering this.

"House, no way!" Wilson protested again. "It's way too risky. Didn't you hear what Foreman just said?"

"Well what other option do we have, Wilson?" House retorted. "It's already impossible to try and figure out what two complete opposites have in common. I kissed you and that didn't work. It probably only confirmed anyone's guess that we're gay, if anything!"

"Nobody saw us…"

"And I really hate the idea of a trial brain transplant or having my head lopped off." House declared defiantly. "Then there's the whole psychics thing…"

"Or you could just wait for the rocks." added Chase.

"Besides," Wilson said. "You'd have to convince Cuddy to let us try that. And you know how well that would go." he stated, sarcastically.

Wilson was right, of course. Cuddy would never allow such a risky experiment, even if there _was_ the possibility of fixing the switch. And Wilson wasn't exactly keen on the idea of having electrical currents sent through his brain. He knew of the damage that could follow.

Again, they all sat in silence as House and Wilson weighed their options. Wilson was getting a massive headache, trying to decide what their next course of action should be. Cameron's suggestion of trying to find the deeper meaning of their friendship was really the only thing they could do for the time being. Then again, if they _did_ manage to figure it out, who's to say it would even work? And sticking together meant that Wilson would have to stay with House. (Which had already been confirmed). Wilson tried to imagine cooking, cleaning and putting up with pranks with one bad leg. And sleeping on a lumpy couch was not going to help either.

"Whatever decision you make, whatever you decide to do, we'll support you one hundred percent." Chase declared, smiling and the others nodded.

"I hope so," said House. "Now would you mind taking your lips off of my ass so I can get out of here? I'm ready to call it a day." He looked at Wilson and Wilson nodded.

"That was uncalled for," said Chase, insulted, after House and Wilson had left the room. "We're only trying to help."

Foreman was shaking his head. "Those two are beyond help." He sighed. "They can't even figure out _why_ they are best friends. That can't be good."

"But they _have_ to figure it out," Cameron isisted. "If they don't…"

"We know." said Foreman, quickly.

"Don't you think we should have told them?" Chase questioned, worried.

Cameron shook her head. "Absolutely not, Chase. They have other things to think about," she replied. "We can't have the risk factor weighing down on them. They'll never be able to think straight then."

They all looked down at that one piece of paper that they had purposely neglected to read. The one that stated the fact that the longer they remained switched, the more they would eventually and completely become each other. Permanently. Irreversible. The fact that they could truly lose them both over time, frightened Chase, Cameron and Foreman more than words could say.

* * *

In the hospital parking lot, House and Wilson were having an argument over their vehicles. House was insisting that Wilson leave his car behind and ride with him instead.

"There's no way you're going to get me on that devilish thing," Wilson said, firmly.

"Don't be such a baby, Wilson," House teased. "I mean, you _are_ basically on it already, aren't you?"

House had a point. Wilson was looking at himself sitting on the motorcycle. But that didn't matter. Only how he felt mattered.

"Look, I just prefer to take my own car," Wilson said, unlocking the door. "I have to stop by the hotel and pick up my things for you. By the way, can I have my wallet back? The key card for the room is in there."

House reached into his back pocket and tossed Wilson's wallet to him. Wilson caught it and got into his car with great difficulty, while House watched him with a smirk.

"You better come with me," Wilson suggested, before closing the door. He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror as he adjusted it. "It'll look suspicious if they see you leaving with my suitcase."

"Do they really know you that well?" House asked, half-laughing. "That is bad, Wilson. Really bad. Tell me, are you on a first name basis with the maids?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and shook his head. House put on his helmet.

"Don't you think it'll be suspicious enough to see their _bestest customer_, Jimmy Wilson drive up on a motorcycle?" House teased him, mercilessly.

"It's none of their business how I choose to get there," said Wilson. "I pay them rent. I'll meet you there."

House sped off, leaving Wilson with another dilemma. How was he supposed to drive his car properly? He realized, shocked, that he'd have to use his left leg, since he had a non-functional right one. He suddenly wished House hadn't already left. He found himself contemplating which was more dangerous – driving his car with the wrong leg or riding behind his friend on a maniacal motorcycle.

_Fuck_, thought Wilson. He gingerly moved his right leg over to the passenger side and adjusted his left leg to work the pedals. He knew where the gas and brake pedals were, but because he had to use his left leg, everything was backwards. He was afraid that if he needed to slam on the brakes suddenly, for some reason, he would instead hit the gas. The only thing he could do was to drive slowly and carefully, concentrating.

"Gas right, brake left," Wilson muttered to himself as he made his way slowly out of the hospital parking lot and on to the road that would take him to the hotel. No doubt, House was probably already there, waiting impatiently for Wilson to arrive.

He wasn't even halfway there, when red, blinking lights appeared in the rearview mirror, almost blinding him, followed by the wailing of a siren.

"Fuck _me_!" Wilson cursed. He couldn't believe his rotten luck. He was probably going to get ticketed for driving too slowly and failing to merge. Wilson could just imagine what House would do or say when he found about this. He already knew that Wilson had never received a ticket in his life. Not for speeding, not for parking. Now, for driving too damn slow. Go figure.

Wilson pulled over to the side of the road, suddenly jolting forward when he accidentally hit the gas and not the brakes. He slammed on the brakes at the last minute, narrowly missing a parallel parked car directly in front of him.

_Let's not add a hit to the list_, thought Wilson, cursing again. He rolled down his window and pulled his wallet out of his shirt pocket, quite forgetting that the picture did not match what he now looked like.

Thankfully, the officer didn't even ask to see his license and registration. She was more interested to find out why he had been driving so slowly.

"You were driving kind of slow back there," the officer commented. "Didn't you see the merge sign?"

"Uh, yes," Wilson answered.

"Well, what's the problem then?" she inquired.

Wilson wasn't sure what to say. But he knew he couldn't very well lie. He had a legitimate reason.

"My leg," he said at last. "I have a bum right leg, so I have to drive with my left. It's a lot harder than I thought." He laughed, nervously.

The officer stuck her head inside and observed his right leg, hanging partially over on the passenger side.

"Are you trying to tell me that this infarction just happened to you today?" she asked, skeptically.

"Actually, yes," Wilson replied, matter-of-factly. "It did."

The officer was taken aback.

"Well, alright then," she said, pulling her head back out from inside the car. "I'll let you off with a warning. But if you ask me, that cane looks pretty worn for someone who claims to have only injured his leg recently." she declared, frankly and walked back to her car.

Wilson was beyond relieved as he drove away from the curb, faster this time.

"That was a narrow escape." he said, thankfully.

Once he arrived at the hotel, Wilson had pretty much gotten the hang of left-leg driving. It was a good thing, too, because he still had to drive to House's place afterwards.

"What the hell took you so long?" House demanded, when Wilson found him waiting in the lobby. "Everyone keeps asking me why I'm just sitting here and not going up to my – or rather, _your_ – room." he told Wilson, annoyed.

"Why do they care?" Wilson scoffed.

House shrugged. "Don't know. But every time I look at that receptionist, she gets all starry-eyed." He smirked, because he knew Wilson could charm just about anyone of the opposite sex. It wasn't unusual for women to get all flustered and dreamy-eyed when Wilson was around. House had to admit that he kind of liked it, now that it was him.

"That's Dana," Wilson said, looking at the pretty brunette at the front desk. "Isn't she something?" He sighed. They headed for the elevator and rode it up to Wilson's floor.

"Yea, she's something all right," House said. "Did you see her…"

"House!" Wilson expressed, cutting his friend off.

"Well, she seems to like you," House commented as they got off the elevator and arrived at Wilson's door. He smirked, smugly. "Maybe I should ask her out. Isn't that what you usually do before sleeping with them?"

Wilson glared at House and swiped the key card to unlock the door.

"You need to learn when to leave well enough alone." Wilson lectured him. "You may _look_ like me, but you sure don't act like me."

"What, you mean all whiny and miserable about your leg?" House forced a laugh. "I don't need to be you to act like that."

"You're admitting to that?" Wilson asked, in total surprise. It was so not like him.

"Yea," House responded, scratching his head in confusion. "Though I don't have a clue _why_. Where did that come from?" He wandered off to use the washroom, while Wilson finished packing his suitcase as neatly as possible. He wanted to get his clothes to House's place quickly so he could hang them up before they got wrinkled. He was sure House didn't own an iron. Not that it mattered. Wilson wasn't the one who'd be wearing the clothes.

When House was done in the washroom, Wilson packed up his hair and facial products, toothbrush and blow dryer into a smaller, overnight bag.

"Is that it?" asked House, picking up the overnight bag and heading for the door. Wilson was left to handle the large suitcase. He pulled it behind him, relieved that it had wheels because there was no way he'd have been able to lift or carry it.

"That's all she wrote," Wilson 'mused and they left, taking the elevator back downstairs.

"Dr. Wilson, are you leaving?" Dana called from the front desk.

Wilson looked at House, reminding him that_ he_ had to answer, since he looked like Wilson and Dana was looking directly at him.

"What does it look like?" House snapped and Dana looked hurt. House tossed the key card on to the counter, then he and Wilson left the building.

"You didn't have to be so mean to her," Wilson told him. "She probably hates me now."

"Good!" House retorted. "That's one less woman for you to wine and dine and then bang later."

Wilson sighed, annoyed. House was obviously in a bad mood again. The sooner they got to his place and went to bed, the better. House would be easier to deal with once there were a few beers in him.

Wilson wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath. It would relax him and his leg. He was not, however looking forward to a night on a lumpy couch. That wouldn't do his leg any good at all.

That's when a thought occurred to Wilson. If he was House, with the bad leg, _he_ should get the bed! House should be the one sleeping on the couch. He knew what his friend would think of that, but he didn't care. And he wasn't about to ask, either. Wilson decided that, after his bath, he would just help himself to House's bed.

_**To be continued….**_

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for another long wait, but something about this story wants me to make it perfect and cover every possible detail that could happen to our guys while they are switched. I've already started the fourth chapter, so that one shouldn't take too long to get posted. Thanks to all for your wonderful reviews… they make me teary-eyed! They really do!_

_Oh yea, and sorry about so much dialogue… LOL… it's my strong suit._


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